Delaney reaches for her glass and I do the same. We both take a sip, not meeting the other’s eye. She sets down her glass, her fingers slowly twisting the stem back and forth.
‘Nick,’ she says softly, ‘do you even want to get married?’
I concentrate on the sprig of rosemary in the centre of the table. ‘Could we go back to talking about directors?’ I ask feebly.
‘Greta Gerwig will win an Oscar one day,’ she says a moment later. ‘I’m positive.’
I look up, taking in the kindness in her eyes. No judgement, no scorn. Only kindness.
‘Thank you,’ I say.
‘Any time.’
It’s a throwaway remark. But I get the sense it means more than that – to both of us.
17
DELANEY
‘Ugh,’ I groan, resting my hands on my stomach. ‘I can’t move.’
Nick chuckles. ‘I could throw you over my shoulder,’ he offers. ‘Carry you to the hotel.’
Yes, please.
Ignoring the lusty babe inside my head, I eye Nick curiously, then peer over the terrace to the steep slope below.
‘Maybe you should roll me over the edge like a giant wheel of cheese. You do that in England, right – throw cheese down a hill, then a bunch of morons chase after it?’
‘You mean the Cooper’s Hill Cheese-Rolling and Wake,’ he replies.
‘Yeah, that –morons.’
He laughs.
‘You ever done it?’ I ask, propping my chin on my hand.
‘Too dangerous. And just so we’re clear, I’m not a moron.’
‘Nope.’ I shake my head way too hard, stopping when I feel dizzy. ‘Nick?’
‘Delaney.’
‘I’m a little bit tipsy.’
He leans in close and I do the same until we’re nearly forehead to forehead. ‘Yes,’ he says.
I sit back and pretend to scowl at him. ‘Dork.’
He takes a long drink from his water glass and I glance at mine – empty. Without having to ask, he fills it from the bottle of Pellegrino on the table.
‘Thanks.’
‘Course.’
I drink it down in one, then cover my mouth to mask a burp. I’m a shitty date.Only this isn’t a date, Delaney, I scold myself.
But if it is, it’s one of the best dates ever.